Redemption
by Felix McKraken
Summary: A bizarre twist of events leaves Vegeta a heavy burden, and alone. But there's always Goku, isn't there? Isn't there...? WARNING: Yaoi. NOTE: To be redone.
1. Pro: Fate and Irony

**redemption** _n_  
1. the saving or improving of something that has declined into a poor state  
2. the improved state of somebody or something saved from apparently irreversible decline  
  
  
**Prologue: Fate and Irony**  
  
Throughout the existence of mankind, as well as other living creatures of the universe, there had existed with them, always, time. Many thought the passage of time was like that of a river in that you could never alter its course. Others didn't even believe you could travel throughout the expanses of the past, through the present, and to the future. Still, some believed in alternate universes that ran parallel to the one they knew of.  
  
What living creatures failed to notice was that although inanimate objects do not breath, contain blood, sleep, eat, or drink, they do exist. The existence was a proof of death, and therefore, life must be within such objects as well. Life, however, does not ensure a soul, or a conscious. Time is not an exception, and although this creature, this entity, is quite frequently busy to ensure it flows smoothly, it has been known to bend at times.  
  
On one such occasion, a vibrant half-breed with lavender locks sent himself into the past to change the horrible future he had known his entire life. Time, amused, allowed the boy passage to send him to change the course of history and ensure that the senseless destruction that had occurred in his world never happened.  
  
This is not the only case in which Time can change. The interest of Time is sporadic and hard to maintain. Pitiful creatures that live and die are nothing compared to Time, and so, Time is only concerned when the situation involves itself. On occasion, a mortal has been known to interest it, and so that mortal should be honored in all regards.  
  
Once in a great while though, Time's attention is caught in a negative manner. This has happened, and so, it is doomed to repeat itself as Time is in itself fate, and fate is not without a sense of irony.  
  
There was a man who was a hero - who shamelessly and bravely fought for his family, friends, and home. His lack of selfishness made him pure and righteous, although he wasn't even able to stop himself. A man that was able to help everyone, but himself. It made Time distraught to know what would happen to the young man and what he would do. Furthermore, it risked the destruction of Time itself, and with the collapse of that, it would ensure the collapse of existence, and without existence, there was no life and death. With no life or death it was uncertain if the universe could even regenerate itself.  
  
There was too much of a risk.  
  
And so Time decided that some futures should be altered for the sake of all. It had known this by the purple-haired boy's positive effects on itself. On this occasion, however, the purple-haired boy would not do at all. This was different now, and the boy was much weaker, and not even the same boy in a sense. No, he would not do. His father, however, was just perfect to do Time's bidding. And so, Time began to reweave itself. 


	2. Ch 1: The Prophecy

**Chapter 1: The Prophecy**  
  
He found himself face down on the ground, his hands above his head as if he had fallen. His jaw ached accordingly. Heat was pouring from the sky by the large, ominous sun which held itself at roughly twelve o'clock. A breeze picked up, causing a dust devil to flank the immediate area before it abruptly died. He pulled himself up slowly, the saturated air filling his lungs - he instantly wished for something to drink. Before him he saw a great structure made of stone, yet it was worn from age and the desert surroundings. In fact, the more he looked at it the less spectacular it appeared.  
  
Regardless, something drew him to the place, an odd feeling pitted in his stomach. Something was out of place, something wasn't quite as it should be. A dark shadow cast over the sky and he gazed upward, watching the moon block the golden sun. The heat did not decrease in its intensity, but almost felt like much the opposite.  
  
He squinted and sniffed. The air around him was slowly getting laced with humidity, the sweet, yet salty, smell creeping around him tauntingly. He gritted his teeth and released a low growl from his throat when suddenly an object crashed before his feet. He blinked, surprised, and bent over to pick up the object. Oddly, it was cold. He stood up and examined it, noting how it melted in his grasp. Another small crash was heard from ten feet to his left. A small piece of rounded ice about the size of a quarter in diameter lay on the ground.  
  
His eyebrows scrunched together as he looked up at the sky which was dark because of the eclipse, but clear of clouds. Another piece of hail fell. And then another. He knew better than to stay outside, and he quickly fled for cover inside of the once-majestic building. He only glanced back once to see a downpour.  
  
He paused once he reached the end of the hallway, not quite understanding why he went so far when he only was seeking shelter. Looking back, he was shocked to find that he was no longer in a hallway. He released a startled gasp as his hands ran across the stone wall that blocked the way he had come. He felt the back of his neck tingle. Something felt..not _wrong_, but just _not right_. He spun around to find out exactly where he was at, only to see that he was completely engulfed in darkness. He blinked a few times before giving a frustrated cry. This..could not be happening!  
  
Suddenly, the smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his senses and he growled lowly in his throat. It was possible he wasn't safe here, wherever here was. He backed against the wall and prepared himself. Torches flickered to life, two by two down a hall directly in front of him, as if gesturing for him to travel in that direction. Hesitantly, yet unable to stop himself, he passed through the archway and towards the structure. As soon as he took a step upward into the foreboding hallway, the smell increased, and for some reason it utterly disturbed him. He breathed in through his mouth and exhaled through his nose to avoid the scent.  
  
He paused as soon as he entered. The hallway seemed endless. He dared not look behind him, fearing what he might see. What he suspected of seeing. What he was certain he would see. As calmly as possible he began his trek, listening to the barely-audible sound of his feet padding across the stone floor.  
  
He walked. He walked till he broke a sweat. He walked until his muscles burned and his joints ached, but finally convinced himself after some time to stop and catch his lost breath.  
  
Only then did he happen to catch something from the corner of his eye. He stood up straight, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. On the wall there was a depiction of himself and Kakkarot fighting. What was truly stunning was the fact that it was accurate to exactly what had happened when he had first come to Earth and fought with the other Saijin. Startled, he walked further to see images of himself leaving Earth to be healed in a regeneration tank. He looked on the opposite side of the wall to see pictures of Kakkarot, Krillin, and Gohan in the hospital.  
  
He continued forth, picking up the pace slightly. He saw both sides of what occurred during the fight on Namek. Occasionally the path crossed, like his death induced by Freiza. He paused here to stare at his own face. And then he was overwhelmed by an impulse, and he ran through this bizarre abyss of the past.  
  
And then, suddenly, the style of the artwork on the walls changed. They were no longer drawn out pieces but rather what seemed to be sketches. Colored roughly as if someone rushed through to complete them, but still as life-like. He stopped and stared for the longest moment in his life.  
  
There before him he saw Kakkarot killing his son. His stomach twisted and he began to slowly walk, watching as the black-haired Saijin became nothing more than a brutal murderer. That woman Chi-chi was next, and then, Goten. Eighteen, Krillin, Marron, Tien, Chou-tzu, Yamcha, Piccolo, Dende..they all perished by the hands of Kakkarot. His head was swirling as he began to see the scenes as he looked at the pictures. His breath was strangled in a way, as if invisible hands were crushing his windpipe, and he fell against the wall, dizzy.  
  
He lifted his head and let his body fall, not even trying to keep his strength. Trunks. His son...he too was killed...as well as Bulma, and Bra. His family. Gone. The visions invaded him. Trunks. Kakkarot. Bulma. Kakkarot. Bra. Kakkarot. Kakkarot smirking, laughing..laughing at _him_. He held his hand over his heart, clenching it into a fist in a pitiful attempt to ward off the ache there.  
  
He forced himself to look at the side of the hallway he had fallen against, but they were drab up until the point where Trunks was murdered. There were pictures of himself. But he was alone. Always alone.  
  
Confused, he continued on, his steps staggering in a drunken manner. He came across a sketch that showed a battle between himself and Kakkarot, and naturally, he lost this fight. The vision of this act was so clear it was like a memory - no - _it was like he was experiencing it_. The brutality of the younger was appalling, and rather not from the sheer strength, but from the execution of such power. The sensation of bones snapping under assailing fists, of tissue raw from intense, concentrated ki, of seemingly irreparable external and internal damage..it was too much at once. With a startled gasp, he fell to his knees, coughing up blood. The smell in the air changed to that of rotting flesh so grotesquely old it somehow was able to send a flicker of fear through him. And somehow, he managed to get to his feet.  
  
He forced himself forward, to push the painful, lucid, and instilled memories away. The images on the walls became blurry, vague. The color seemed paler and not used so frequently. Soon there were pictures of himself on either side, one was that of a priest, the other, an angel. The pictures here were hazy yet so...life like. It was so oddly disturbing to see himself in a depiction of something holy. The decay scent didn't dare touch these images though. It was as if all the dying had occurred directly before these graphics.  
  
A movement caught his eye and he froze in place as an angel began to call to him in words he didn't understand. A priest turned to him, and startled, he backed into the center of the hallway. The angel and priest began speaking simultaneously, their words exact an in synch. Even though he couldn't truly hear their words, he could somehow understand what they were saying. They screamed to him, mournful, painful cries. The aching of their souls - _his soul_ - came through their cries.  
  
"Shut up!" he yelled, "_Shut up_!" He held his hands over his ears in hopes to block them out, but they merely got louder. "SHUT UP! _SHUT UP_!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, a million images flashing through his mind. Death, destruction, pain, fear, so many things that he did not understand, or merely did not want to understand; but most of them he already bitterly understood. This was their gift to him.  
  
He opened his eyes and there, in front of him, was Kakkarot. Startled, he took a step back, unsure of what to do or say. His breath was ragged as his lungs begged for clean, cool air.  
  
"I'll kill you," Kakkarot said, a frightening, predatory grin on his face, "I'll kill you like I've killed your family." Somewhere in there Vegeta could here the echo of, "I'll kill you like I've killed _my_ family." The screams increased, his head pounded and felt as if it would explode; visions of his family and allies dying flashed before him.  
  
'Kakkarot, no! KAKKAROT!!' he grabbed his hair and pulled until he thought it would come out, but even then..anything to stop the pain. The blinding, agonizing pain that he would never be strong enough, that he'd always be alone, that he would never be good enough. It hurt to have all his mistakes spat at him at once, it tore at him worse than any attack had ever before, tearing him apart from the inside in an attempt to leave him a hollow shell. And yet, he hung on, no matter how horrible the pain got, something kept him holding on. He released a scream of his own, unable to withstand anymore of the torture that invaded his mind.  
  
"I'll kill you."  
  
And then it was over: He awoke in a cold sweat. 


	3. Ch 2: The First Day of the Last Day

**THIS CHAPTER TO BE REWRITTEN. JUST FYI.**  
  
**Chapter 2: The First Day of the Last Day**  
  
Goku released a long yawn as he stretched. He rubbed his face as he sat up, throwing the covers off of himself as he swung his legs around to get up. He padded quietly over to the closet, opening it up to pull out a change in clothing. The smell of breakfast food cooking inticed him to hurry his morning routine and he soon entered the kitchen to greet his wife. "Morning Chi-chi," he said, giving her a hug from behind. "Good morning, Goku," she replied, almost done with her task, "Breakfast is almost ready. Why don't you take a seat?" Happily he obliged, sitting where he always did. "Hey mom! Hey dad!" Goten said as he entered the room, like his father, he had quite an appetite. "You're up early for the weekend," Chi-chi pointed out, a tad suspicious. "I know...I sorta woke up and thought it was still the week, so I decided to stay up," Goten explained, sitting down in his usual chair, "Besides I was hungry." Goten looked over at his father and they shared a grin. "And why does that not come as a surprise?" Chi-chi muttered, gathering the food and placing it on the table. "Breakfast is served," she announced, taking a seat herself.  
  
The males ate with ferocity and soon enough, all the food was gone. "That was good!" Goku announced, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. Goten nodded in agreement before turning to his mother, "I'm going to go outside and play, okay?" Chi-chi gave a nod of approval, "Alright, but be back in time for lunch!" The young black-haired pre-teen smiled and quickly scampered off. As soon as he was out of sight Goku perked up, sensing a power level near the door. A knock followed and Goku immediately got up to answer it. "Gohan!" Goku said happily, giving his son a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! How have you been?" Gohan smiled and returned the hug, "Good, good. Everything's going great. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing." Chi-chi stood up and looked him over while answering, "Things have been normal as always, Gohan. But look at you..all grown up. Sometimes I hardly believe it." Gohan sighed and gave a laugh, "Mom..you always say that!" Chi-chi walked over and gave him a hug, "It doesn't matter. It's the truth." Goku chuckled and leaned against the door frame.  
  
Gohan gathered his breath and turned to his father, "Well..you up for it?" Goku raised an eyebrow, "Up for what?" The demi-Saijin grinned and folded his arms, "For a spar. I'm sure you haven't done it in awhile." Goku returned the grin, "No, I haven't." Chi-chi suddenly interrupted them, "Hey! I don't want you two getting into trouble!" Goku headed out the door and he looked over his shoulders, "Don't worry Chi-chi!" Gohan waved to his mother, "Yeah mom, lighten up!" With a smile they were off to a secluded area to fight.  
  
Goku removed his first shirt and began to stretch. Gohan stretched as well, deciding to try to make it a good spar. "Alright dad..don't go TOO easy on me, alright? I need to stay in shape," Gohan requested with a grin, popping his knuckles. "Oh come on...now YOU shouldn't worry," Goku replied, returning the grin his son gave him, "Let's just see if you still got it." Gohan gave a brief nod, "Sure." They both took battle poses, preparing themselves for the sparring match that was about to begin. With a yell Gohan leapt toward his father, swinging his fist and aiming for the face. But anticipating this, and much faster, Goku easily dodged, backing up to the onslaught of attacks that Gohan threw at him. "You're going to have to do better than that, Gohan!" Goku laughed, leaping a great distance away, throwing a few blasts at his son in the process. The half-Saijin moved out of the way with ease, pausing briefly to jump up to Super Saijin level one. Goku followed suit and powered up as well, flying backwards through the air, waiting for Gohan to catch up.  
  
Gohan kept throwing punches and kicks, but Goku kept dodging. When an opening presented itself, he sent a kick into Gohan's side and the young man flew a few feet to the side before recovering. Gohan flexed for a moment before smirking, "You're holding back." Goku returned the smirk, "So are you." His son nodded and charged again, attacking with a newfound fury. "C'mon, fight!" Gohan insisted frustratingly, trying anything to get his father to respond, but the man kept backing away - taunting him. Trying to intice his father, Gohan pushed himself to the next level, successfully landing a combination of attacks onto Goku. The black-haired Saijin fell towards the ground and landed with a distinct thud, landing directly on his head. Gohan smirked as he father slowly began to pick himself up, now maybe they could start really getting a work out.  
  
In all truth, he had not expected Gohan to leap, as his emotions hadn't proven any real threat. His body had spun out of control, careening towards the hard ground. He landed harder than he expected. Much things were not expected; like the sudden burst of thoughts that coursed through his head, as if a flood gate had been opened. As if all barriers to his past had been removed - as if all the walls that had been built up to keep his instincts dampered came crashing down - he felt his mind work like it had never done so before. He liked it.  
  
In a sudden burst of golden light he watched his father's hair spill down his back, covering him in a mass of spikes. "Hey! That's not fair! You know I can't go level three!" Gohan protested, landing nearby with a playful frown on his face. "Yes...I know you can't," Goku replied slowly, calmly..oddly. Gohan took a deep breath and placed himself into a fighting stance, "Well, I'm ready to continue for as long as I can go on...heh." His father stood slowly, rubbing his head for a moment before taking up a fighting stance as well. "Bring it on," he whispered, his black eyes flashing dangerously. "Okay!" Gohan smirked, a little confused by his father's twist in behavior but willing to keep up a good fight, "Here I come!" He leapt toward Goku only to have him disappear an instant before contact. He went to turn around and search for him but strong arms wrapped around him, holding him and immobilizing him. Gohan gave out a nervous laugh, for some reason he did not know. Goku squeezed until Gohan thought he'd snap his ribs. The half-Saijin coughed and wheezed for air, "Hey dad? Dad you can stop now." There was silence. A very _uncomfortable_ silence.  
  
"You're so weak," his father hissed into his ear. "Dad..?" Gohan questioned, fear seeping into him, 'What's wrong?' The grip increased and Gohan cried out as a rib finally did snapped, "Dad! What's wrong! Hey! Let me go, now!" Goku's voice spoke lowly, darkly, "You're pathetic. You disappoint me." Gohan furrowed his eyebrows - his father had always supported him in everything that he did, whatever was going on it didn't make any sense! "This planet has infected me since that day I fell," Goku whispered, his teeth clenched, "Vegeta was right. I should've accepted his offer and joined him." The younger man fell silent, completely taken aback and petrified with fear. "You sickly half breed," Goku growled, tightening his grip again to snap another rib, "How could I have followed this pathetic path? You weaklings make _me_ weak." Gohan coughed, feeling the warmth of his blood trail from the corner of his mouth, then down to his chin and neck. "This isn't a storybook," the third class warrior explained, "Life will not have a happy ending, Gohan." His son lifted his head, his vision blurring, his thoughts swirling around all the events of his life as his heart beat pounded in his head. "You've been such a good boy," Goku murmured, relaxing his hold, "I'll make this quick." Gohan's mind suddenly went blank and all he could do was pray to God for him to remove all of his sins. It happened so fast he didn't even realize it happened. Just a pressure upon his skull and a twist so fast it caused a snap. The body of the half-Saijin crumpled to the ground, his eyes closed, a blank, almost peaceful, expression on his face.  
  
***  
  
She heard the door open as she was busy washing dishes. "Are you back already, Goku?" she questioned, calling out over her shoulder but still intent on what she was doing. The door shut and there was no reply. "Goku?" she called again before putting the plate down and turning around, wiping her hands dry on her apron. She was surprised to see him in the form that he was in, and she tilted her head to the side, "G-Goku...?" His lips upturned into a smirk that Chi-chi had known Vegeta to wear on occasion. It was cold..evil... He brought up his hand, his palm facing her and she blinked, confused. "Until death do us part," he said flatly, his eyes widening just slightly. She gasped and backed up as she saw the light of the energy that grew in front of his palm. She wanted to ask why but her jaw just dropped and she stood completely stunned like a deer looking into oncoming headlights. This wasn't far from the truth, but the survival rate of a deer compared to herself at the moment was vastly higher. With ease Goku shot the blast at his target. The door opened and his other son walked in and he began to greet him, "Hey da-" He froze in place, looking at his mother's body which had a hole through her that was still smoking. "Goodbye Goten," Goku replied, lifting his hand in his direction and letting out another blast. He smiled in triumph as the half-Saijin's body first fell to it's knees, and then, onto his face. "You're all so weak," Goku whispered, shaking his head. He stepped past the body and took to the air, 'I'm going to have to eliminate you all...'  
  
_TBC..Hmm..moving a little fast paced, oh well, it'll slow down some.._


	4. Ch 3: Betrayal

**Chapter 3: Betrayal**  
  
He woke up feeling unusually groggy. The sun cast its happy rays into his room, which was one thing he noted because they usually weren't as bright as they were when he normally rose for the day. The prince sat up to find the world spinning before him. Growling, he forced himself to ignore the dizziness and head downstairs. In the kitchen area, Bulma stood reading a paper and munching on a cookie. Vegeta glanced at her, but headed straight for the coffee pot.  
  
Normally he didn't drink the caffeinated beverage, but for some reason he felt as if he'd need it. He picked up the pot, examined how much was in it, and finally just gulped it down. By this time he had caught Bulma's eye. It wasn't everyday Vegeta came downstairs looking - blatantly - like shit. She folded the paper and put it down on the table, "What's wrong, Vegeta?"  
  
His eyebrows furrowed and he began to speak softly, "I do-" He cleared his throat and spoke in a normal voice, "I don't know..." A look of concern graced her face as she leaned in to have a better look of him. Black gazed into blue and vice versa. He wasn't sure why, but he felt awfully protective. Suddenly, his arms reached out and embraced his human mate, holding her close, "Listen, woman... Bulma..you...you're the closest thing I.. I've ever had to a friend. I just don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
She never felt happier in all her life, but it was odd for Vegeta to admit his feelings at any random time, "Are you going to be okay? Maybe you need to go train or something..."  
  
The brunette chuckled a bit, some at her comment and some at his own absurdity, before turning a bit serious again, "Yes, but...I..don't want to lose you." If Bulma didn't know any better she'd say Vegeta was being romantic.  
  
"What are you worrying about?" she asked, daring to run a hand through his unruly hair.  
  
His body tensed at her question and he repeated, "I don't know..." By her words he had realized that he'd been worrying, even though there was nothing to worry about. No, he couldn't sense any danger..so what was the matter?  
  
Bulma sighed, a smile curving her lips, "Goodness, Vegeta...sometimes you're so strange. Honestly, I don't know why I chose you other than the fact you're incredibly loyal, and great in bed." She gave him a wink and a grin. A small blush threatened to creep up Vegeta's neck at the compliment. He gave her a startled, though embarrassed, look. The blue-haired scientist giggled before placing a small kiss on his cheek, "I love you too, Vegeta." He blinked, his eyes growing a bit wider at her powerful statement. Neither gave the other heart-felt declarations. "You look so tense!" she teased as she pulled back. "Go train already!" she said, giving him a playful slap on the rear before running off, giggling.  
  
Absentmindedly, Vegeta rubbed the area she had thwapped before silently deciding that training would be a good distracting activity to perform. He entered the gravity chamber and set it to a mild 150 G for a warm-up. He stretched his muscles, feeling that odd sense of displacement - as if things weren't exactly right. He shook his head as if trying to remove it from his conscious. No, there wasn't anything off, he was just worrying...  
  
He leapt into the air, doing a series of kicks and punches before he noticed his mind was wandering again. He just couldn't shake this feeling. It was truly odd. He landed silently and placed his hands over his face. He closed his eyes to concentrate, so he could decide on what to make of the matter. He was just worrying, and worrying over nothing, so he shouldn't worry at all. There. Nothing to worry about, just drop the whole thing and it'd go away. He let his arms fall to his sides as he stared out into space, still debating. 'Since when has my instinct ever betrayed me?' he thought to himself, truly concerned, 'But since when have I not been able to sense danger? I only worry for a reason, but I do not see one!'  
  
A few moments of silence ensued, which was followed by a shrill scream. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, spreading like wildfire. Something _was_ wrong...Oh god, something _was_ wrong!  
  
Vegeta instantly raced towards the source of the outburst, running down the hallways at break-neck speed, opening doors with such ferocity they damaged the walls they banged into. He came upon the den where Bulma, Trunks, and Goku resided. Bulma was back against the wall, a stunned look of terror on her face. Trunks was on the ground, wincing, blood trickling down the side of his face. And Goku stood tall, proud, with his hair trailing near to the floor. Vegeta took a few breaths, confusion writing itself all over his face.  
  
"Glad you could come, little prince," Goku turned his gaze towards Vegeta, acknowledging him. Goku spoke slowly, "You'll have to excuse me a moment." Trunks had managed to get upon his feet by the time Goku finally looked back at him. When the demi-Saijin saw him, however, he instantly backed away, his blue eyes wide with fear. Before another move could be made, however, Bra bounded into the room.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked, head tilted to one side, "Why did mom scream?" Bulma grabbed her daughter and pulled her close as if to protect her.  
  
"Goku, please," the scientist pleaded in a shaky voice, "Whatever it is...we can help you.." Goku responded with a laugh that Vegeta knew all too well. The third class looked at the prince, their eyes meeting briefly. Vegeta was taken aback by the look. All traces of the happy good-natured hero were all gone and replaced with bitterness, coldness, and dare they even look...sadistic? Oh god..something was most definitely _wrong_...  
  
"You can help," Goku whispered, humor in his voice, "by dying." The words triggered something inside of the prince's mind. Something long ago and forgotten....No! It couldn't be true! God, it couldn't!  
  
_Trunks. Kakkarot. Bulma. Kakkarot. Bra. Kakkarot. Kakkarot smirking, laughing..laughing at **him**._  
  
His muscles clenched to the point where it began to hurt, his lungs temporarily forgetting to inhale. No...  
  
_His stomach twisted and he began to slowly walk, watching as the black-haired Saijin became nothing more than a brutal murderer._  
  
It was just a dream! How could it have meant anything? Was this what was nagging at the back of his mind? An unignorable plague that was trying to warn him? Had he subconsciously known..? No! _No_! It couldn't be real! Kakkarot couldn't be....And what about himself? What could he do?  
  
_There were pictures of himself. But he was alone. Always alone._  
  
No...it just couldn't...  
  
_There before him he saw Kakkarot killing his son. That woman Chi-chi was next, and then, Goten..._  
  
His eyes darted around the room, as if to emphasize his rapid thoughts. His eyes lay upon Trunks, the blood on his face registering in his mind. The fear from Bulma and Bra seemed all too haunting. Denial and self-blame swirled within him. No, this was too much!  
  
"You killed your family!" Vegeta spat, disbelief and anger mixed in his voice.  
  
Goku raised an eyebrow, "Very interesting, little prince. I would like to know how you knew that."  
  
Vegeta felt himself shake. Oh god, it was..it _was_ real! This _was_ happening! Nausea came over him and he staggered for a second. He dragged himself out of shock, his eyes once again going to Goku's. "Eighteen! Krillin! Piccolo! Dende!" he shouted, fists clenching tight, knuckles turning white.  
  
"Yes," Goku confirmed with a nod and shrug, "they're dead too." Dead, gone.... No! This wasn't fair! What sick joke was THIS!? That when he finally had settled down it would be torn from him!? That Kakkarot would betray all the things he had taught him, the Prince of Saijins, was okay to do and still be able to be a warrior!? He had worked too hard for this! Dear lord! Wasn't it ironic enough that Kakkarot was finally what he wanted him to be, but only when he DIDN'T want him to be that way!? He had worked painstakingly hard to achieve what he had. He'd worked so much to be able to be where he was at today. The years of fighting for a pure heart were not to be cast to the wayside because of this! NO! It was so incredibly difficult and embarrassing to finally become like one of them, and he was not giving up on it now! This was so insane! So impossible!  
  
"This is impossible!" Vegeta proclaimed, wishing it could be true.  
  
"As impossible as a third class becoming Super Saijin," Goku casually inserted, suddenly looking bored, "Look, are you over your melodrama? Because I have business to conduct here."  
  
Vegeta growled savagely, powering up to his full potential, "NO! You leave them alone, Kakkarot! As your prince, I command you!"  
  
Goku snarled, baring his sharp fangs, "Quiet, bitch! I respect my prince, but I do not take orders from those who cannot even rival me!"  
  
Vegeta flared, his aura growing brighter, swirling around him like a miniature whirlwind, "You think I cannot rival you? Ha! I've done so for years!"  
  
Goku took his turn to growl, looking deeply annoyed, "No, Vegeta. You were always one step behind. I never wanted to hurt you, so I always let you think you were close. You have no idea how far ahead of you I am. This foolishness ends now, it has gone on for far too long." He turned away from the brunette, gathering a ball of ki around his right hand, "Any last words, brat?" Trunks felt paralyzed from the shock of the situation, barely able to breathe. "Very well," the black-haired Saijin said with a shrug, preparing to launch his attack.  
  
"TRUNKS! RUN!" Vegeta screamed, jumping onto Goku's back and attempting to choke him by wrapping his arms around the level three's neck.  
  
Goku winced at the unexpected attack, but quickly jabbed his elbow into Vegeta's side, making him gasp and loosen his grip. The third class grabbed his prince and threw him onto the floor before swiftly turning and catching the run away, "Say goodbye!" The assault reminded Vegeta of the battle with Cell, when the android had unexpectedly blasted Mirai through the middle, instantly killing him. The emotions that he felt proceeding were too familiar - familiar and intensified.  
  
Trunks. Kakkarot.  
  
"FUCKING BASTARD!" Vegeta screamed at the top of his lungs - grief, anger, and betrayal fogging over his vision to make him see red. The loud sound of skin hitting skin emitted, and shockingly, Vegeta noticed his distressed mate standing before Goku.  
  
"How could you! After so many years we've-" she started before a larger hand silenced her, smacking her to the floor, an instant dark purple bruise marring her cheek.  
  
"Silence, woman, your presence irritates me enough that I don't need your screeching to go along," Goku informed, looking down upon her in disapproval and disgust. That was enough for the prince. He charged the other Saijin, but only got within an inch of him before he felt a large fist jam itself into his stomach, pressing against his spine. Vegeta coughed red, falling over and holding his abdomen, trying desperately to keep his golden form. God, that idiot was right...he was more than one step behind... He wasn't strong enough, he would never--  
  
"Get your hands OFF of me!!" Bulma shrieked as she was lifted off the ground by her hair. Struggling to rise, the prince forced his stomach to expand back to normal and his spine to compress correctly.  
  
"Let her go!" Vegeta demanded again of the surviving member of his race. Goku gave him a sidelong glance, but that was merely all.  
  
"Quick and painless, right Bulma? That sounds exactly how you'd like it," Goku playfully thought out loud, carrying her around aimlessly.  
  
Vegeta tackled him with all the force he had, sending all three of them onto the ground. Vegeta raised his fist and brought it down upon the other Saijin's face mercilessly. "STOP THIS NOW!!" the prince screamed, punctuating every word with a fist to the face. Finally a palm caught his knuckles, a savage growl emitting itself loudly from beneath him.  
  
"Little prince, little prince.." Goku taunted, tightening his grip, "I think you should stop while you're ahead."  
  
Vegeta tried to pull back but with no avail, in fact, the grip tightened, "Kakkarot, this is..madness-"  
  
The younger nodded in agreement, "So true. So true... For years I never understood _why_ you wanted to destroy this pathetic planet. And me. But it makes so much sense _now_."  
  
Vegeta wrapped his hand around his trapped wrist, trying to get himself released, "What are you babbling about!? For fuck's sake, Kakkarot..this is bullshit!"  
  
Goku's eyes narrowed, glaring at the slight figure on top of him, "You hated me, prince. I cannot forgive that." The hand around him squeezed, and Vegeta somehow restrained himself from letting his vocal chords work. He felt the bones move out of place, the ligaments tear, the joints being shifted. Slowly, but surely, his hand was being crushed...  
  
And then, mercy was granted. The cost, however, was even worse. Bulma intervened, clawing at the younger man's face, so he instantly shoved Vegeta out of the way and advanced on the defenseless woman. His hand enclosed around her throat, slowly crushing it. She made one noise before air refused to pass through, and then her hands tried in vain to peel her attacker off.  
  
Vegeta ignored all the pain he was experiencing and lunged himself at the taller man, intending to ram his shoulder into Goku's back. When he slammed into the other man, the response was immediate. A swift kick in the stomach sent him reeling. Momentarily stunned, the brunette fell backward, clutching his midsection, his senses numbed. He struggled, trying to sit up, wondering briefly if any bones were broken. All thoughts of his own well-being completely disappeared as he watched Goku slam his woman into the coffee table, glass shattering, wood splintering. Vegeta tried to rise, but he could only manage to cough, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. The younger Saijin summoned a brilliant blue ball of ki, aiming it towards his life-long friend.  
  
Suddenly a figure threw themselves into the path, screaming, "NO! MOMMY!"  
  
Goku laughed, "You? You're going to stop me?"  
  
Vegeta swallowed and managed to get onto one knee, "Bra! NO!" The young lady ignored her father and powered up, launching a few ki blasts at Goku until she was too tired to continue doing so. "BRA, GET OUT OF HERE!" Vegeta demanded, standing up, a hand still coiled around his middle. She turned to him, hesitating, and her indecision cost her dearly. Through the smoke she had created, a thin ki blast shot out, striking her through her left breast. She fell backward, her form trembling for a moment before she lay limp, her eyes losing luster. "No," Vegeta choked out, his voice hoarse, "NO!!" He headed in the direction of his fallen daughter, but an arm grasped him. It coiled around his body, holding him off of the ground and pinning his arms to his sides, rendering him immobile.  
  
"This is best gift I could ever give you, prince," the faintly recognizable voice of Kakkarot whispered in his ear, "You should be thanking me, really. I'm setting you free." His hand lifted slowly, taunting the brunette as he purred, "Emotions make you weak, Vegeta. I'm making you strong again." The older man struggled with all his might, even going as far as trying to bite the arm that held him, but it didn't work. "Quick," Goku murmured, a ki blast generating around his hand, encompassing it, "and painless." Vegeta writhed, kicking and screaming as if that could stop what he knew was about to happen. The blast enveloped his mate and overloaded her form, causing it to shut down immediately. It was a merciful death in a way, and it did not damage her body.  
  
Vegeta tried his best to not submit to the horror - to give in and mourn in front of the other Saijin; he also resisted the urge to block this out, to go into denial which would develop rapidly into other mental imbalances. He had to cope with the reality, but he could not afford to be consumed by it. He was suddenly placed onto his feet and spun around. He stared blankly into the chest of his enemy until his hair was grasped and he was forced to look up. "And now it's your turn, I suppose," Goku mused with himself, smirking devilishly.  
  
Vegeta refused to show him fear, refused to give in, to submit himself to this other man. No, he had been in a similar situation for years, with Freiza. Freiza may had been stronger than him, but Vegeta would've been damned if he would ever yield to the tyrant. He would not show submission to him, and he would not show it especially to Kakkarot. All he gave the other Saijin was defiance, a look that said the prince was better, regardless of the circumstances.  
  
The first response was a look of anger, but it soon melted into amusement.  
  
"Very well, little prince, you get to live. You might be fun later on after all."  
  
And just like that, Kakkarot was gone. 


End file.
